You may be wondering what the three things in the title have to do with each other and my blog theme of the Kitchen Table. Well, I'll tell ya. This coming Thursday is Thanksgiving, a day we think about everything and everyone we are grateful for and give thanks for those people, things, events, etc. that have graced our lives. And we eat a huge meal at the table - well, most of us do, I'm sure.
I know that I have a lot to be grateful for and indoor plumbing and my king-size platform bed are just a couple of things I am truly grateful for. I count myself exceedingly blessed with these two luxuries.
In Samoa, our bathroom was a 6'x4' concrete-block structure located about ten feet from the back door. I dreaded to go inside and avoided it as long as I could, but there was no alternative unless I wanted to go out into the ocean across the road. Not very practical.
My daily routine while I lived in Samoa was to march outside armed with a five foot long broom handle, and throw open the bathroom door. I thrusted the end of the broomstick inside and banged it around, making sure to smack the pastel pink toilet a few times, and tap the shower head on the other side of the partitioned room.
Inevitably, large frogs, 6 - 9 inch long centipedes, and hermit crabs in discarded tin cans would scramble outside. I had already jumped up on an upended bucket and let them pass, except for the centipedes which I consider the most vilest, evil insect on the planet.
Once the bathroom was cleared out, or, as much as could be cleared out since the roaches dived for cover in the broken mortar between the concrete blocks, or under the cracked toilet base, I reached in and jerked on the pull cord for the small single bulb hanging through the corrugated tin roof above. It's dim light did little more than illuminate a small circle of the concrete floor of the shower. I tried not to look at the black mold that stained the concrete walls where slower moving spiders and millipedes still scrambled to find shelter.
I stepped into the shower in my flip-flops and lava-lava (a length of thin cotton fabric used like a towel) and turned on the faucet. There was only one temperature setting and thick brown sludge gushed out of the pipe with choking, gurgling sounds. It took several minutes before the water ran clear. Sometimes, there would be body parts of crabs that would shoot out of the pipe and flop to the concrete floor. I used the broomstick to flick the decimated creature out of the bathroom.
Showers had to be quick,because you never knew what else would come out of the pipe. So, I'd hang my lava-lava from a nail on the door (there was no lock), and scrub down as fast as I could. I think my best time was just under a minute.
Wrapped in my lava-lava, I would hurry back inside before any of the teenage village boys could see me - but there was a clear view of our backyard from the village's basketball court where the boys played "jungle ball" (a rougher version of your standard basketball).
Then would begin a full day of just trying to survive. At night, we would drag out our beds, which were little more than body size pillows stuffed with batting. Mine was a fat purple one with little white flowers on it. We all (nine kids)slept in the living room, while my parents slept in their own room.
It was wall to wall bodies, and we'd switch our places around depending on who we had disagreements with during the day. I never slept in the same spot twice - but my favorite spot was in the middle of the bunch. It was the safest from midnight attacks of roaches or centipedes, or frogs who liked to cozy up with one of my sisters for some reason. But, the person slipping in the middle wasn't immune to geckos falling off the ceiling. Most times I had to sleep in front of the door, where several gaps around the door allowed roaches and mosquitoes entrance. When we first arrived on the islands, we were a delightful feast for the nasty, tiny biting insects. Over time, I suppose our blood got too salty for them and they left us alone.
When I got my big pillow where I wanted it, I'd spread my lava-lava over it (yes, the same one I used for my shower in the morning), and then used either another lava-lava or bed sheet (if I was fortunate to get to it before another sibling) and pull it over myself, careful to tuck it under my body all around me. Then, I put my smaller pillow over my head to protect my face and ears from curious insects in the night. I slept in one position the whole night, because I knew that if I moved from under my layer of protection, I'd wake up with some large bug trying to crawl into my ear, or 'squitoes biting me, or, mercy, a frog sitting on my chest.
Without the experience of Samoa, I don't think I would be as grateful as I am today for the luxuries which I enjoy. So, yes, I am thankful for my luxurious bathroom with jetted tub, and separate shower that emits soft drops of crystal clear water. A toilet that doesn't moonlight as a hotel for icky creatures, and a tiled bathroom floor with golden flecks that sparkle in the sunshine, and clean white walls.
I'm thankful for my king size bed that can sleep five and doesn't smell like old onions.
I could go on for pages and pages about all the things I'm grateful for. But most of all - I'm grateful for my husband. Words cannot express the love I have for him and what he means to me. I am a better person because of him. I love my children and am grateful for them - I couldn't imagine my life without them. I'm grateful for my family, friends, and those who invented indoor plumbing and beds. Thank you.
Tofa soifua!
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